


Burgundy and Cream

by paperstorm



Series: Velvet [3]
Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sebastian Stan, Chris in velvet has done it again, Established Relationship, Evanstan - Freeform, Even tho it's technically not velvet this time, Explicit Sexual Content, Golden Globes 2020, Lace Panties, M/M, Mild Kink, Nipple Play, POV Chris Evans, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22146484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: Sebastian’s lips curve into a slow smile. More of a smirk, really. He’s spread out luxuriously, arms over the back of the cushions, legs spread obscenely, the thickened outline of his cock visible through the delicate cream lace that covers his hips.With a smug head-tilt, his smile grows, and his voice is soft as he says, “hey, gorgeous.”Chris’s lower lip trembles. “Seb,” he breathes. “What … are you doing here?”Sebastian shrugs one shoulder, casual and nonchalant. “Surprise.”
Relationships: Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan
Series: Velvet [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1332682
Comments: 34
Kudos: 204





	Burgundy and Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Chris wore a soft pretty suit again and I have no will-power whatsoever ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Chris twists in his seat. Tries to keep his attention trained at the stage, to pay attention to what’s going on. He has to present soon. Not right away, but soon enough that he needs to be focused. One of the cameras pans to him. He laughs, because everyone else in the room is laughing so he’s definitely supposed to be laughing, even though he’s lost track of what’s going on. His hands ball to fists above his knees, fingernails digging into his palms, and then he relaxes them.  
  
Next to him, Rachel leans over and whispers something. He doesn’t quite hear her – this time because of the noise of applause around them, not because he isn’t paying attention – but it’s too loud for her to repeat herself anyway so he just smiles and nods politely, and makes a mental note to apologize later once the show is over and ask what she’d been saying in a quieter space where they can actually have a conversation.  
  
Under his fingers, the fabric of his suit pants is exorbitantly soft. He’d picked it just for that reason, he remembers. He’d liked the color, and the satin lapels, and the cloth-covered buttons, but mostly it had been the fabric the had drawn him in and rendered him unable to even seriously consider any of the many other options his stylist had shown him. He’d been instantly fixated, as is fairly typical for him with most things. Now, with a commercial break increasing the din around them and no one paying much attention to him, Chris allows his hands to wander like they’re dying to. To move slowly over the fabric, fingers to dip along the inseams along in insides of his thighs, digging in. He hesitates, when his right hand gets high enough, but risks it, because he’s under the cover of a table, this time, unlike the last time he’d worn soft pants to an event and lost control of himself a little. His hand moves just briefly between his legs, palm pressing down, fingers curling in, and then Scott is leaning over and talking to him and Chris tries to stifle how his shoulders twitch as he startles. He hastily brings his hands back up, rests his elbows on the table, leans in to listen to his brother, and internally chastises himself to get it the _fuck_ together.  
  
It’s such a long night. It’s a fun night, he loves seeing his castmates from Knives Out because really, it’s unlikely they’ll all ever be together again like this. He loves seeing Scarlett, always, even though he sees her a little more often than some of his other long-time Marvel friends. He enjoys himself, is the point, but by the time he heads home he’s more than ready to be home. The limo drops him off at the curb, and Chris drags his tired body along the path, through the secure gate, and up the few steps to his front door.  
  
His house is dark inside, except for the lamp in the hallway that’s set on a timer. Actually, Chris thinks, his mind taking a moment to catch up with his other senses … it should have switched off, already. It’s set to go out at midnight, and it’s well past that. Frowning, Chris glances around, and notices more light that he hadn’t, initially. A gentler, more orange glow, coming from the living room. And the quiet crackle that Chris recognizes as the sound of fire.  
  
He panics. Rushes into the room, thoughts of the fact that Dodger didn’t greet him at the door swirling in his brain, but then he rounds the corner. Chris blinks. Then he blinks again. Tries to focus his tired eyes, tries to clear the blur from them that is obviously the foundation of this hallucination. That, and a healthy dose of wishful thinking. But the image doesn’t go away. Chris is exhausted, strung out from feeling himself under the table all night long with Scott rolling his eyes next to him. He’d wanted nothing more than to get home, give Dodger a few half hearted pats, jerk off in the shower, and collapse into his bed. Instead, he’s greeted with the sight, in his living room, of Sebastian.  
  
There’s a fire glowing in the fireplace. Dodger is curled up at Sebastian’s feet, fast asleep. Sebastian is naked, except for lace panties and dark blue tassels hanging from his nipples.  
  
Chris blinks one last time, just to be sure. Just to be absolutely positive he isn’t imagining things.  
  
He isn’t.  
  
Sebastian’s lips curve into a slow smile. More of a smirk, really. He’s spread out luxuriously, arms over the back of the cushions, legs spread obscenely, the thickened outline of his cock visible through the delicate cream lace that covers his hips.  
  
With a smug head-tilt, his smile grows, and his voice is soft as he says, “hey, gorgeous.”  
  
Chris’s lower lip trembles. “Seb,” he breathes.  
  
Dodger looks up, recognizing his owner’s voice, and trots over happily. Chris gives him a mostly perfunctory greeting, and then sends him away with the familiar command, “go to your room,” and Dodger looks a little disappointed as he heads off in the direction of his crate in the laundry room. Chris feels badly about it, and will make it up to him later. Right now, he can’t concentrate on that.  
  
“What … are you doing here?”  
  
Sebastian shrugs one shoulder, casual and nonchalant. “Surprise.”  
  
Chris repeats the word under his breath. He brings shaking hands up to cover his face for a moment, unable to process this drastic turn of events in his worn-out brain. Sebastian’s tanned skin glistens in the light from the fire he’s got burning in the stone hearth, the outline of every meticulously sculpted muscle precise and perfect. He’s been working so hard, lately. Chris is so proud of him, and it mostly overrides the lingering twinge of sadness to find out Sebastian had felt inadequate next to him when they’d first met, because Chris … Chris thought Sebastian was the most beautiful thing he’d ever set eyes on. Still does.  
  
When he manages to lift his hands off so he can look again, at all the beauty spread out before him on his white couch, Sebastian quirks an eyebrow, as if to say _what are you waiting for?_ and it’s all the invitation Chris needs.  
  
He stumbles, one foot clumsily falling in front of the other, ripping his bowtie off as he goes so roughly he hears threads snapping. He crashes down like a gangly newborn foal, uncoordinated and with tremors wracking his body as if struck with a sudden fever, to his knees on the rug before Sebastian. He reaches out with still-shaking hands, palms sliding up Sebastian’s smooth thighs, soft skin and just the barest dusting of hair, until his fingers find lace.  
  
“Baby,” comes out of his mouth in a rush of breath. The waistband sits so low on Sebastian’s abdomen, barely covering him at all, the shadow of trimmed hair peeking out over the top of it. “Baby, look at you.”  
  
“Look at you,” Sebastian counters. His fingers slide into Chris’s hair, through the strands at the top and then down the recently-buzzed side of his skull. Chris did that only recently – Sebastian hadn’t seen it until now. “All handsome in your suit.”  
  
“What’s – why are …” Chris loses the thought, his thoughts ricocheting around his brain like it’s a pinball machine. Instead of bothering trying to find it again he surges forward, fingers curling possessively around Sebastian’s hips, face pushing into the panties. The lace is soft and rough at the same time against his nose.  
  
Sebastian exhales, a quiet noise that tingles the back of Chris’s neck. He inhales deeply, the scent of soap and Sebastian and arousal filling his nostrils and leaving him delirious. He could burst into tears, or maybe start screaming, or start laughing hysterically and not stop until morning.  
  
Sebastian leans over, his hands curling warmly around the back of Chris’s neck, and he nudges at Chris’s temple with his nose. “Hey,” he whispers, close and intimate. “Look at me?”  
  
Chris does, but it’s hazy again. A sheen of desire leaving sweat on his forehead and blur in his vision and fluff in his brain. Sebastian’s blue eyes come belatedly into focus, worried underneath a furrowed brow.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asks softly. It’s worry, on his face, but it’s also so much love it nearly knocks Chris back onto his ass. Whatever Sebastian has planned, however elaborate it may have been or long it may have taken to set up, if Chris answered _no_ , _I’m not okay_ , it would all be put immediately on hold so Sebastian could slide down to the floor and wrap Chris up in his arms.  
  
Chris swallows, his own saliva suddenly as thick as syrup, and tries to smile. He’s sure he doesn’t manage it. “You’re here,” he says weakly, voice cracking around the word.  
  
“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees. His thumb rubs along Chris’s cheek, in a slow, steadying arc. “It happened again, huh?”  
  
Chris doesn’t know what he means. Once Sebastian explains it, in retrospect, Chris should have.  
  
“Like at the Endgame press conference. In the turquoise pants.” Sebastian licks his lips. The thumb and forefinger on his other hand find Chris’s lapel, feeling the material between them. This suit isn’t velvet, but it’s the softest corduroy he’s ever encountered, fine burgundy fibres cropped just long enough to be supple as if they were velvet anyway.  
  
“Oh.” Chris closes his eyes, and Sebastian kisses his forehead.  
  
“You were, weren’t you?” Sebastian’s lips catch and drag along Chris’s skin, leaving moisture that immediately turns cold and makes him shiver again, even though the room is warm. “And sitting at a table, this time, instead of up on a stage. So much more privacy.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to,” Chris admits, and it’s the truth. It hadn’t been his intention to wear this suit just so he could grope himself under a table all night seated next to his brother, running his hands over his thighs and his crotch as inconspicuously as he could. Chris is so tactile, and the fabric is so decadent, but he never would have worn it in the first place, if he’d known that’s how his night would end up. But he should have known. Sebastian clearly did.  
  
“Couldn’t resist?”  
  
“It feels good, against …” Chris loses that sentence, too. Only this time, he knows where it was going, he just doesn’t have the guts to finish it. His cheeks heat up, face suddenly burning hot.  
  
Sebastian’s hand lifts from his lapel. It slides glacier slow all the way down Chris’s arm, over the material, until it finds Chris’s hand. Sebastian guides it up, so Chris’s fingers make contact with the tassel on Sebastian’s left nipple – that Chris had completely forgotten about.  
  
“These are soft, too,” Sebastian murmurs, folding Chris’s fingers around it. It is soft, strips of airy silk hanging down from the ornate golden clamp. Chris tugs gently, and Sebastian hisses, and Chris’s dick throbs in his pants.  
  
He hadn’t noticed that, either. Too consumed with the fact that Sebastian is _here_ , that he’s real and here and warm under Chris’s hands, that he came all this way, that Chris can touch him and kiss him and hold him tonight when he thought he’d be going to bed alone and frustrated. Now, as he takes a second to focus on his own body instead of Sebastian’s, he finds himself achingly hard in the corduroy pants, the tip of his cock messy already and pressing into his underwear.  
  
“How long have been you planning this?” Chris asks. Sebastian’s face is still close to his, too close to see him properly. Chris gives another gentle tug at the tassel, the clamp pulling on Sebastian’s sensitive skin.  
  
“Since – ah – since Scott texted me and told me what you were planning on wearing.”  
  
“My brother knows about this?” Chris manages to joke, even though his head is still spinning.  
  
“He knows I’m here to surprise you. He doesn’t know about anything else.”  
  
“This, you mean.” Chris slides his right hand over the panties, cupping Sebastian through them. Rubbing him, feeling the heat and the ridges underneath his palm.  
  
Sebastian swears softly. “You wanna talk about your brother right now?”  
  
“No. Want you to kiss me.”  
  
Sebastian does, sliding their lips together in a languid, delicious embrace. He gasps against Chris’s mouth as he tugs at the tassel one more time. “So, those are a hit, I guess.”  
  
“You look beautiful,” Chris whispers to him, taking Sebastian’s charming tease and turning it back serious, because he does. He looks beautiful, and he’s precious to Chris, more than he could ever say in words.  
  
“Thank you,” Sebastian whispers back.  
  
“Show off for me a little?”  
  
Sebastian smiles into a kiss. “Sit down,” he says, nodding his head to the side.  
  
Chris pushes himself back to his feet and does as he’s told, unhooking a few buttons from his shirt where it suddenly feels too tight against his neck and settling down onto the couch beside Sebastian. A quick kiss is pressed to his cheek and then Sebastian stands and moves over so he’s in front of Chris, long legs between Chris’s spread knees.  
  
Both his inhale and exhale are shaky, as Chris takes him in. Sebastian’s never dressed like this for him. Chris has never asked him to, never even knew he wanted it. He likes lingerie on women as much as the next guy but he’d never even thought about what it might look like on a man. The panties hug his hips, cream-colored lace so pretty against his glowing caramel skin. He’s still hard inside them and the thin fabric does nothing to hide it. The skin around the nipple clamps is reddened, when Chris looks up at them; already reacting to their presence. They might be sore, tomorrow. Chris might be able to roll over in bed first thing in the morning and duck his head down to take one into his mouth, suck on it gently while Sebastian’s squirms, riding that razor edge between pleasure and pain that he loves so much.  
  
“Can’t believe you did this.” Chris breathes heavily, arousal heavy in his veins and warm between his legs. His eyes roam over Sebastian, standing unashamed before him, gorgeous and perfect and all Chris’s.  
  
“You like it?” He sounds shy, and when Chris’s looks up he’s blushing.  
  
“Fuck, sweetheart.” Chris shakes his head, words absolutely failing him. It’s all too big, too overwhelming, to possibly articulate. “You look … I’m speechless, alright? What does that tell ya.”  
  
“You? Speechless?” Sebastian teases.  
  
“Yeah, exactly.” Chris holds Sebastian’s hips again, tugs him in just a little closer so he can run the tip of his nose from the waistband of the panties to Sebastian’s bellybutton. His Boston drawl shows out in full force as he hums, “so fuckin’ pretty.”  
  
Sebastian’s throat clicks as he swallows. He pushes Chris’s shoulder, pushing him back against the couch. He’s still flushed, as he elegantly pushes the panties down. Embarrassed, just a little, but doing it for Chris, and Chris’s heart might burst in his chest. His cock bounces as the waistband passes over it, perfect as ever, skin darkened and the shiny head exposed and Chris’s mouth waters just looking at it. He leans forward again, but gets a firmer shove back this time, and a playful smile on Sebastian’s sweet mouth as he sinks gracefully to his knees.  
  
Chris’s pants are being undone and his erection is being engulfed in wet warmth before he can wrap two braincells around what’s happening, the pleasure hitting him like a punch and sending him doubled over, bracing himself on Sebastian’s broad shoulders. He swears, mouth unhelpfully coming up with nothing but profanity to express the sensation as Sebastian sucks him.  
  
His eyes are so blue as he blinks up at Chris through his lashes, red lips stretched around Chris’s cock, that lovely flush still coloring his cheeks the nicest shade of pink. It’s all a vision, the most breathtaking portrait, and Chris wants to etch it in gold and hang it up on his wall so he can remember this sight every day for the rest of his natural born life and hopefully into the afterlife as well.  
  
“Seb,” he rasps, fingers squeezing in Sebastian’s hair – getting longer, lately, more to tug on these days than in less recent months.  
  
Sebastian hums around him, vibrations rebounding through him, hitting synapses and sliding rough and grating along nerve endings. Sebastian’s hands squeeze his thighs, hard muscles under soft material, like Chris had done to himself only hours ago, unable to resist the pull of the fabric.  
  
“Fuck, _fuck_ , baby.” Chris pulls harder at the silky chestnut strands, close to climax so quickly because he’s been halfway there all night.  
  
Sebastian pulls off him, drawing in labored breaths, lips shiny and berry red and tantalizing. Chris wants to devour them. Sebastian rolls back onto the balls of his feet and stands in one fluid motion. Then he sets one knee onto the cushion beside Chris’s thigh, then the other, pushing Chris back against the couch for the third time and settling in on his lap. Chris cups his jaw and pulls him in for a bruising kiss, tasting himself on Sebastian’s tongue, moaning into it.  
  
He trails one hand down, fingertips ghosting over Sebastian’s collarbone, so he can pull gently at the other nipple tassel, the one he hasn’t played with yet. “How’s that feel?” he asks, his tone husky, desire pulsing through him in such thick waves it feels like his skin is enveloped in hot melted honey.  
  
“Do it harder,” Sebastian urges, eyes closed and lips parted.  
  
Chris does, walking his fingers right up to the clamp so he can twist it, and Sebastian swears breathlessly and his cock leaks against Chris’s shirt, leaving a gratuitous wet spot beside the buttons. Chris sort of wants to rip his shirt off and suck on it.  
  
“Hurts,” Sebastian whimpers, “but feels so good, Chris, fuck.”  
  
With his other hand, Chris reaches between them and curls his fingers around Sebastian’s cock, warmth and hardness in his hand as he strokes it, still torturing Sebastian’s nipple in the other until Sebastian is squirming against him, rocking himself in Chris’s lap, the bottoms of his thighs sliding over Chris’s pants.  
  
“This – wait.” Sebastian laughs, a bright, airy sound, and tips his head forward to rest against Chris’s as he chuckles. “This was supposed to be about you.”  
  
Chris lets go of the tassel, but not Sebastian’s cock, just slows down so his fist slides over it slower and more deliberate. “It still is,” he answers. He bumps his nose against Sebastian’s. “Fuckin’ love you in my lap like this, makin’ you moan.”  
  
“Chris,” Sebastian says in a sigh, but the happy kind of sigh, reaching out for Chris’s other hand and guiding it around the back of himself.  
  
Smiling and dipping fingers between Sebastian’s ass cheeks, Chris expects to find heat, and soft skin, and the little furl of muscle he loves watching as it opens up for him. He isn’t expecting to find it already loose, slicked with lube and thoroughly prepped. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, an intense wave of arousal crashing through him, clenching his molars together to wrestle back control of himself when he feels so out of it. “What did you do?”  
  
“Found your stash of toys.” Sebastian’s voice lilts mischievously, so sweet and playful and Chris’s heart throbs. “You got some new ones. Had myself a good time in your bed.”  
  
Chris’s whole body feels aflame as he pictures that, Sebastian spread out on his expensive sheets with a toy shoved up his ass and Chris’s scent surrounding him. He slides two fingers into Sebastian’s body because he can’t resist all that slippery heat. “How many times did you come?”  
  
“Just …” Sebastian’s breath hitches again as Chris finds his prostate and presses into it. “… just once. Wanted to wait for you.”  
  
“I’m here, now,” Chris tells him. He nips gently at Sebastian’s lower lip, fingertips still massaging deep inside him. “What d’you want now?”  
  
“Wanna ride you,” Sebastian says, raising himself up to his knees, Chris’s fingers slipping out of him with the movement.  
  
Chris’s body is very, very on board with that plan. He slumps down just a little, just to give Sebastian more room, and blinks up at him as Sebastian steadies himself with hands on the back of the couch and lowers himself slowly down onto Chris’s cock, naked and exposed where Chris is still fully dressed except for the erection sticking out of the open fly of his dark corduroy pants. Sebastian envelops him, heat slowly wrapping around Chris’s dick and pulling it up, until he’s seated back in Chris’s lap and leaning forward to capture Chris’s lips in another fervent kiss.  
  
When Sebastian starts to move, Chris can’t help himself. His hands fly right back to the tassels, tugging at them, twisting them so the skin puckers, drunk to the point of delirium on Sebastian’s moans and full-body shudders, responsive and noisy and so damn beautiful Chris could die happy right at this moment and never regret a single thing.  
  
He half-carries Sebastian away from the living room, once they’re both sticky and spent and Chris’s suit is absolutely ruined and he couldn’t possibly care less. He keeps one are tight around Sebastian’s waist, supporting him, as they stumble off down the long hallway toward Chris’s bedroom. Sebastian sits on the edge of Chris’s bed, rubbing his eyes like a drowsy toddler, as Chris quickly ducks into his walk-in closet to undress and hang up his suit and tuxedo shirt. Then he heads to the laundry room to free Dodger, and brings Vaseline with him, when he returns.  
  
“Good surprise?” Sebastian asks, his voice small and sleepy, as Chris sits beside him. Dodger jumps up onto the bed and cuddles up on Sebastian’s other side.  
  
“The best surprise. I love you so much.” Chris runs his hand through Sebastian’s hair, brings his head in closer so Chris can kiss his temple.  
  
“Love you, too,” Sebastian answers. He winces just a little as Chris reaches out and carefully removes the clamps from his nipples. They’re still so red, and Chris’s mouth fills with saliva looking at them, but he resists. Tomorrow morning, if Sebastian’s’ up for it, Chris has all kinds of plans. Tonight, instead, he scoops out some ointment on two fingers and gently rubs it into Sebastian’s abused skin. Sebastian hums, somewhere halfway in between an indication of soreness and a _that feels nice_ sort of sound, and it ricochets through Chris, more power to affect him than a simple hum should have, but that’s always, always been them. Sebastian’s had more power to affect Chris with the simplest things since they day they met. Chris isn’t complaining about it. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.  
  
When he pulls Sebastian into bed and tucks them both under the blankets, Sebastian tucks himself immediately under Chris’s chin, safe and warm and wrapped up in his arms, just like Chris likes.  
  
“Do we need to have a conversation about how you can’t keep feeling yourself up in public?” Sebastian asks, teasing again. Impish and playful and God, he’s so sweet Chris can’t contain himself.  
  
“It’s your fault, if anything,” Chris tells him, with a quiet chuckle. “You’re always so obsessed with velvet and silk and everything soft, you passed it to me.”  
  
“I’ve never fondled my own dick on a stage in front of press and Steve Rogers fans,” Sebastian points out.  
  
“I never have either, brat,” Chris protests, swatting Sebastian’s backside lightly. “I stopped myself just in time, remember?”  
  
“Mm. Yeah, I remember. I have a gif on my phone. Watch it all the time.”  
  
“No you don’t.”  
  
“I honestly do. I’ll show you tomorrow.”  
  
“Oh my God,” Chris groans, but he’s still laughing. “You’re the worst.”  
  
“You’re the best,” Sebastian returns, nuzzling into Chris’s throat.  
  
Chris exhales deeply, letting his muscles relax, letting himself melt into the mattress with Sebastian in his arms. “Yeah, yeah. Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> [come talk to me on tumblr if you want!](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/)


End file.
